


Cold Is the Night

by AnaliseGrey



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (he's a dick whether he's breathing or not), Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: c02e125 The Neverending Day, Hunter Essek Thelyss, M/M, Spoilers, Vampire Caleb Widogast, Warning: Trent Ikithon, Whump, Writing by the seat of my pants, Zeenoth for like...a moment, background vampires of no particular importance, handwaved setting, just go with it, mention of broken bones, temporary willing loss of autonomy, threat of harm, what even is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29666919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaliseGrey/pseuds/AnaliseGrey
Summary: Caleb’s been missing for a week already when Essek finds out.“What do youmean‘he’s gone’?”The half-elven archivist who’s relayed the news to him shrinks back slightly, and Essek takes a deep breath, shoving his anger and worry back for a later time. He needs information, and he won’t get it by completely terrorizing the man.Probably.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 20
Kudos: 151





	Cold Is the Night

**Author's Note:**

> So.
> 
> This idea was inspired by the wonderful Dexjio, and conversation about an AU where Caleb was a vampire and Essek was a Hunter.
> 
> Things (as you can see) escalated a bit from there.
> 
> Thanks to the Shadowgast server for encouraging this nonsense and cheerleading :)
> 
> A lot of the background is sort of handwaved, and not especially fleshed-out, but just...ya know...go with it.
> 
> Title taken from The Oh Hellos 'Cold is the Night'

Caleb’s been missing for a week already when Essek finds out.

“What do you _mean_ ‘he’s gone’?”

The half-elven archivist who’s relayed the news to him shrinks back slightly, and Essek takes a deep breath, shoving his anger and worry back for a later time. He needs information, and he won’t get it by completely terrorizing the man.

Probably.

“My apologies,” he grits out, managing- at least for the moment- to keep his voice even. “But what do you mean,’he’s gone’?”

“He, uh-” the young man, Teyla, Essek thinks his name is, blinks at him, only just starting to collect himself from Essek’s initial outburst, and it’s all Essek can do to not reach out and shake the man until he explains. “We think it happened on one of his evenings off, so we weren’t aware until a few days later when he didn’t show up for a shift, and we realized nobody had seen him-”

“Have you attempted to call him?” Essek asks, nails digging into his palms within the sleeves of his hoodie. “Or tried to track the device itself if he does not answer?”

At this the archivist bristles, finally growing a spine.

“Of _course_ we did,” he says, straightening back up, brow furrowing. “I know we’re not you, but we’re not _complete_ amateurs, you know. It's like he's vanished off the face of Exandria. We’ve been trying to locate him, but scrying doesn’t work, and nobody's seen him, so-”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Essek nods his understanding. Caleb’s worn an amulet of proof against scrying and detection as long as Essek’s known him, an additional layer of protection against the Assembly.

If whoever has him- because Essek has no doubts that Caleb was taken against his will- kept the amulet on him, there’d be no way to track Caleb by magic.

Well. Essek hasn’t gotten where he is by relying solely on the arcane; he’d have been dead ten times over already if that were the case.

This just means he’ll have to go about this the mundane way.

“Alright. Enough time wasted. Tell me everything you’ve got-”

The last anyone’s seen of Caleb was the previous week, at the end of his shift.

“Zeenoth took over for him that morning,” Dairon tells him when they speak later that day. “Said they spoke for a few minutes, but Caleb was going to feed then head to his room before dawn, and had to get going. Nothing too different from his usual activity.”

“Hm.” Essek considers. “May I see his room? I know you have likely checked it already, but perhaps another set of eyes-”

Dairon nods, and gestures for Essek to follow them.

“Of course. It never hurts to double check.”

“Do you think I could speak with Archivist Zeenoth? Perhaps he has recalled something he didn’t before-”

“Oh-” There’s the smallest hitch in Dairon’s step that if Essek were any less observant, he’d have missed. “That may be- complicated.”

Essek stops in the middle of the hallway, and it takes Dairon a moment to realize he isn’t still following.

“What do you mean ‘complicated’?”

He doesn’t like the way Dairon’s expression hardens then goes carefully-neutral.

“Zeenoth was arrested on charges of corruption a couple of days ago. He’s currently being held here before his trial.”

“Before his-” It’s so unexpected it takes Essek a second to process. “But- how do we know he was telling the truth about Caleb?”

“We do not.”

It suddenly hits Essek that the expression Dairon’s attempting to hide isn’t chagrin, or anger, or resentment.

It’s _embarrassment_.

It must be mortifying for something like this to have slipped under the nose of the expositors, the corruption of one of their own.

“I imagine his dealings with Caleb are not what got him arrested,” Essek offers carefully. “What did you catch him on?”

Dairon’s lips press into a tight line.

“We received testimony of illicit dealings and bribery, as well as at least once instance of kidnapping.” Dairon’s sharp gaze meets his. “I will admit that I did not like you much at first. I had some preconceived notions and prejudices that are unbecoming of someone in my position; I have been working on it. But the notion that one of our own, someone we _trusted_ -” Their jaw works as they get themselves under control. “We have been waiting for you to return to speak with him again. Beauregard can’t get here fast enough from where she is, and she suggested you. I am inclined to agree with her.”

All of this is much more than Essek had ever expected. He's known Dairon had no fondness for him, but that is hardly surprising. He’s well-aware that many good people were lost in the recent conflict, on both sides, but he’s never expected an apology.

“I-” He takes a breath, lets it out, and tries again. “I accept your apology, and offer one of my own. I know it can be devastating to find out a betrayal has come from inside. It can shake your very foundations.” Nodding to them, Essek rolls his shoulders back, and tilts his chin up. “If it is all the same to you, I would like to speak to Zeenoth before seeing Caleb’s room.”

Dairon’s lips coming up in a smile that would be very concerning if Essek didn’t know it wasn’t intended for him.

“I am perfectly alright with that.”

He’s led back the way they’ve come and down another hallway, then another, until they’re in a part of the building he’s unfamiliar with. They descend a staircase, and Essek realizes that they’ve reached a small hallway lined with cells. Dairon nods to the monk on watch and strides past, heading straight towards a cell up near the front. At a flick of Dairon’s fingers, Essek stills, waiting just out of visual range of the cell.

“To what do I owe the honor, Expositor?” The sound of a page turning from within follows Zeenoth’s words. “If you are here with more questions, I’m afraid you’ll need to wait until my lawyer is present.”

“You are correct that for an official interview that is the case. However I will not be the one asking you questions.” Dairon turns and nods, and Essek steps forward, enjoying the quickly raised eyebrows and concern on Zeenoth’s face as he moves into view. “ _He_ will.”

Not even an hour later, and Essek is _seething_ , far angrier than he’d thought it possible to be. Realizing things would not go well for him if Essek were allowed unfettered access, Zeenoth had asked to make a deal- information on Caleb’s whereabouts and a guilty plea on the corruption charges in exchange for incarceration at a lower-security prison than the one he’d likely have ended up at otherwise.

It galls Essek that the weasel is going to get away with so much, that he won’t suffer more for whatever is happening to Caleb right now, presuming he hasn’t been destroyed outright. But if they want any chance of finding and helping Caleb, they had to take the deal. 

It’s never been a great secret that Zeenoth wasn’t comfortable having Caleb work at the archives, of the opinion that they should never be working with a vampire, no matter the circumstance. So when the opportunity arose to not only get rid of him, but make some coin on the side, he couldn’t pass it up.

‘ _I didn’t know at first that my contact was one of them._ ’ he’d said. ‘ _They said they’d been wronged by him in the past, and that they wanted justice they knew they’d never get as long as he was under our protection. It seemed like a good deal all around, really._ ’

Essek doesn’t know what his expression had morphed into, but whatever it was must have been something, because Zeenoth had paled considerably, the rest of his words spilling out in a rush.

‘ _I didn’t know they were one of them, one of the Assembly’s people, at first. But once I figured it out, it still seemed a good deal. I got paid, and rid of him, and why not let them tear each other apart and do some of our work for us?_ ’

Essek’d had to excuse himself at that point, knowing that if he stayed to listen to any more he wouldn’t be able to control himself, wouldn’t be able to stop himself from causing a diplomatic incident, and things are tense enough between their nations as it is.

He’s a floor up now, pacing as he waits for Dairon to rejoin him, the float he often uses not satisfying enough to burn off the fury he’s feeling right now.

Caleb- smart, caring, and gentle, working so hard to make up for a past that he can’t control- is in the hands of the very people responsible for that past, for making Caleb what he is. It’s unthinkable, _unbearable_ , but he must bear it, because Caleb needs him. If he’s still around, if they haven’t just destroyed him, Essek needs to find him, and quickly. There’s a lot that Caleb can survive as he is, and there’s no way to know what they’re doing to him until he’s been found.

Time is of the essence, and Essek can feel each second as it slips by, knowing that it’s likely that Caleb is suffering through each and every one.

He’s still pacing when Dairon finds him again a short while later, their expression grim.

“They were taking him back north but he doesn’t know where for certain. It wasn’t necessary for him to know, so they didn’t tell him. It gives us a place to begin, a direction to look. It is more than we had before.”

There’s a flurry of activity as the information gets out, as more people are woken up to get to work on the search. It’s eating Essek alive, knowing that while all this work is essential, anything could be happening to Caleb, and all he can do is sit here and wait.

No, he thinks. That’s not actually true.

He can do more than that. There’s no reason for him to sit on his laurels and do nothing. Just because he can’t scry on Caleb doesn’t mean that he’s useless.

Caleb isn’t the only one with a tarnished background.

Feigning fatigue, Essek requests a room to rest in, and once alone quickly pulls out his scrying materials. He can’t scry on Caleb, but Caleb isn’t the only person to look for.

He settles in with his small mirror and focuses, letting his consciousness settle and calm, though it takes more effort than it usually does. Finally the spell completes, and he aims his mind’s eye where he wants.

He’s largely convinced it will fail, that he’ll need to recenter and try again on someone else, but the spell connects, and next thing he knows, his awareness is flying rapidly over open ground, blurring past the exterior of a building, then deep, deep underground.

When he comes to a stop, it’s to find with disturbing clarity the countenance of Trent Ikithon, a pleased sneer curling his lips as his fangs flash in the low light. He’s speaking to someone, and while Essek can’t see who, he _knows_.

Because while Ikithon’s voice and image come in clearly, the direction he’s facing is oddly-blurred, whatever responses to his words there may be garbled and indeterminate.

“What did you think would happen, dear boy? That you could run, that you could betray us so soundly, and face no consequences? You know we- _I_ \- could not allow such an insult to go unanswered.”

He doesn’t hear what Caleb’s response is, but Trent’s answering laugh is chilling.

“However you look at it, you lose. If they find you, we will slaughter them all while you watch, helpless, before we stake you out to greet the dawn. And if they do not, well, we’ve missed you, Bren. There is _so_ much to catch up on, and we will have all the time in the world to do so.” All of a sudden, Ikithon’s gaze shifts, until he’s looking directly at Essek’s point of view. “Isn’t that right?”

The shock of being seen knocks Essek right out of the scry, and he’s left in a cold sweat, pulse hammering in his chest from the adrenaline. If there had been any doubt about who has Caleb, this has erased it, his worst fears confirmed in the process. The Assembly has Caleb in their clutches. _Trent_ has him, and gods, he can’t imagine how scared Caleb must be.

Caleb’s spoken only a little of his time before, of how he came to be who- what- he is, and it had taken a great deal out of him to do so. His fear was obvious, terrified of being found and retaken, and now it’s happened, his worst nightmare come to life.

He’s already got his scrying equipment packed up and is gesturing for a Sending before he’s consciously decided on his course of action.

“Dairon, I believe I know where Caleb’s being held. I’ll scout ahead. My guess is Vergessen.” He takes a second, and finishes the message. “It’s where would hurt him most to be captive.”

There’s a brief pause, then Dairon’s voice comes through.

“Essek, wait. Do _not_ go ahead on your own without back-”

He doesn’t wait for them to finish the message before he’s uttering the incantation for teleport, disappearing from the grounds of the Zadash archives.  
  


Essek reappears to find himself in a wooded area, the darkness around him heavy enough to give even his dark vision a run for its money. It’s cold, far colder than expected, but it’s not a surprise; it’s nearing winter, after all, and he’s further north than he was a handful of moments ago. Thankfully there’s no snow- he’s not remotely dressed for that- but he can see his breath ghosting faintly in front of him.

Looking around, he tries to get his bearings; the moons aren’t visible through the tree canopy, but he’s able to use his phone's GPS to orient himself, even if the signal is spotty. Once he has an idea where it is, he points himself in the direction he wants and starts moving, opting to float rather than walk. Walking would help keep him warmer, but in this instance, stealth is imperative.

He’s been moving for almost fifteen minutes when he comes to a break in the trees and he stops, taking in the view.

Laid out before him in shades of gray, black, and silver is what appears to be the grounds of some sort of estate. The lawn is overgrown, though kept partially in-check by the ever-colder weather of the season, and it sprawls, far larger than his own estate back in Xhorhas. 

What gives him pause are the buildings.

They sit in the dark expanse, looming over the rolling grounds. Three buildings- two smaller squat side buildings, and one larger, towering construction. It’s difficult to make out with the distance, but he thinks some of the windows are broken, others boarded over. There’s a wall around the whole compound, presumably with a gate, though he can’t see it from his vantage point.

If this is indeed Vergessen, and this is where Caleb is, then it would be pure folly to try to enter tonight. Invading a vampire den is dangerous, even in daylight, with a host of backup.

It’s the dead of night, and he’s becoming increasingly-aware of just how alone he is here. He should wait, he _knows_ he should- wait for Dairon, wait for a team, for backup, for someone to watch his back-

But how can he do that, knowing Caleb is likely inside, and probably has been for nearing on a week, now? Taking on a vampire den- alone, at night- is madness, but he also knows that if he waits for daylight he might not get another chance. He won’t risk trying to physically drag Caleb out, but also knows that depending what wards are in place, he may not be able to teleport out directly.

He has to hope Caleb can move himself.

To get even that far, though, he has to get inside. That’s step one.

He spends precious time waiting and watching, looking closely for any sign of movement, any sign of guards or noise that would indicate there’s anyone at all inside. He hears nothing, sees nothing, and a worm of doubt squirms in his gut as he wonders if he’s guessed correctly, if Caleb is actually here, or if he’s gotten it wrong all together.

Only one way to find out.

He waits one more half hour, so that he’s waited just over a full hour total. That whole time there’s been no sign of anyone, no indication of life or movement other than the occasional expected sounds of the woods at night. When he’s convinced he’s as certain as he can be, he makes himself invisible and moves forward, floating towards the stone wall that surrounds the buildings.

Invisibility is no guarantee. Some- though not all- vampires can see through it, rendering it useless. Anything that might give him the tiniest bit of advantage though is something he’ll do. He still aims for caution, listening intently as he moves, floating up and over the stone wall. He has a hope, however faint, that coming in a way other than the gate will give him some element of surprise.

Proceeding onward when there’s no thrill of alarm, no barking dogs or wolves, Essek finds himself at the first of what’s likely to be many crossroads- which building does he check first?

Deciding to start big and work smaller, he heads to the larger building, slowly floating up until he reaches the very top, a window in the side of the spindly tower. It’s one of the broken windows, rather than one that’s boarded up, and he’s only thankful that the window is oversized, allowing him to slip in without catching on the glass. If there’s one thing you don’t want to do while trying to sneak into a vampire den, it’s to bleed.

He clears the building floor-by-floor from the top down, conscious of every thump of his heart in his chest, of every fleeting moment. Each story he clears ratchets his nerves tighter; he was sure- _so sure_ \- that Caleb was here, but it doesn’t seem like anyone’s been here in years, the smell of stale air and mildew prevalent everywhere he goes, the layer of dust thick enough to leave tracks in, if he weren’t floating.

The ground level is just as abandoned as the rest of the building, and he’s preparing to move on when he gets to the last door off what he thinks may once have been a kitchen. He gets it open, and instead of another room or a pantry there’s a staircase, leading down into pitch darkness.

This is stupid; stupid and careless and if he survives then he’ll deserve every lecture he receives, and be grateful for it. Even as he starts to silently descend the staircase he’s looking around, ears swiveling outward in an effort to hear _anything_ , for any indication he’s not alone. Reaching the bottom it’s silent, the air still and eerie. He’s barely able to make out changes in the darkness that denote shapes, though he can’t quite make out what they are. This is a turning point- he can’t reasonably go onward without light, and knows that if there _is_ anyone down here with him, that any light would be a blazing beacon to indicate his presence if they weren’t already aware.

He doesn’t know what to do, fingers twitching at his side in the desire to create light, to push back the inky darkness that feels like it’s pressing in and making his skin crawl. The sensation of eyes in the darkness, watching his every move is palpable, and every instinct he has, both as a hunter and a mortal being scream at him to run, to flee back into the night and not come back until it’s reasonably safe, until he’s not alone.

But the memory of Caleb, sitting beside him, unable to meet his eyes as he spoke about his past, barely restraining himself from scratching at his arms, comes front and center into his mind. Essek is afraid, yes, very much so- but if he’s this afraid, how much more so must Caleb be? He cannot- _will_ not- abandon him to that any longer than he has been already.

And so Essek steels himself, readying an offensive spell even as his other hand twists in the somatic movement for his lights.

They flare to life, four globules of light very similar to the ones Caleb creates, and Essek squints his eyes shut a second to let them adjust.

And opens them to find himself face-to-face with a grinning vampire.

There’s a split second where time crystalizes, then shatters as his lights wink out, his hands already moving in the somatics for daylight. The sunburst pendant at his throat is warm against his skin, and the magic begins to surge before winking out again, countered, leaving him in darkness.

Something slams into him from the side, knocking him prone, and he only barely gets an arcane shield up in time to protect himself from the follow-up. He’s in trouble and he knows it, at a severe disadvantage. He’s alone and almost blind, fighting at least one vampire, though realistically it’s probably more. One would be a solid challenge for any solitary hunter, even one experienced as himself.

This? This is an unwinnable fight.

He fights anyway, unable to do anything else, having to at least try. He does everything he can to stay mobile, to cause them as much damage as he can. He’s limited by having to keep his lights up, concentrating on them even as he lashes out at the vampires that surround him. He’s doing his best, but he’s only one man against several preternaturally fast and strong beings, and it’s only a matter of time before they down him.

There’s no small amount of satisfaction, though, in knowing that he’s still managed to kill one of them before they do.

They wrestle him to his knees, then all the way to the ground, until his face is pressed uncomfortably into the dirt flooring beneath him. One of them keeps his wrists pinned behind him as another couple take his components, his satchel, anything that might aid him in fighting back. They rip his hoodie off in the process, making sure he doesn’t have anything hidden under the bulky garment, and he can’t help but shiver, his long-sleeved t-shirt no match for the chill. They pull him back up to his knees and hold him there, as overhead a light flares to life- electric, to his surprise, not arcane. It’s bright, and he can’t shield his eyes, so he squints again, trying not to close his eyes completely. He’s already caught, but that doesn’t mean he wants to close his eyes on these people.

“I’m uncertain whether to applaud your courage and tenacity, or mock you for your foolishness.” Ikithon’s voice carries ahead of the man himself, preceding him from the shadows nearby as he comes to stand over Essek. “Surely a hunter as renowned and worldly as yourself knew better than this. What on _earth_ could have possessed you, Mr. Thelyss?”

Essek’s eyes widen in surprise, even against the brightness of the lights, and Ikithon smiles, the points of his fangs glinting.

“Oh yes, I know _exactly_ who you are.” Ikithon circles, speaking as he goes. “Essek Thelyss, hunter known as the ‘Shadowhand’- a bit overwrought, if I may be so bold as to say so. Hailing from the far reaches of Xhorhas, come to converse and research with the Cobalt Soul.” His voice sneers over the name of the organization, and Essek inwardly smiles at whatever they’ve done to irritate this man so much.

Ikithon comes full circle, stopping in front of Essek, looming. He takes Essek by the chin, fingers bony and cold, and Essek curses himself for the shiver he can’t contain at the touch. The man’s fingers tighten, forcing Essek’s head up to look at him.

“I can see why he likes you. You’re the exact sort of well-meaning fool he is.” Ikithon stares at him a moment longer, and it takes everything Essek has not to stare back; looking a vampire in the eye- especially one this old- is asking for trouble, even if it makes his blood boil to look away. “No matter. We will break Bren of his nasty habits once and for all.” Ikithon smiles down at him, and it portends nothing good. “With your assistance, of course.” Ikithon releases his grip on Essek’s chin and turns, gesturing to someone over Essek’s shoulder before heading down a nearby hallway.

The grip on Essek’s shoulders releases, but only long enough for someone to take up position on either side of him to grab his upper arms, hauling him roughly to his feet. He grits his teeth against the tight hold, thankful that against all odds he made it out of the fight with no more than some scrapes and nasty bruises.

They bring him down the same hallway Ikithon's disappeared down, taking a turn at the end and coming to a stop in front of a larger space that’s been subdivided into barred cells. Ikithon is waiting for them to the side, watching as Essek’s dragged forward and thrown through an open cell door, landing painfully, the wind knocked out of him. The cell door slams behind him with the _click_ of a lock engaging before he can recover, his head still spinning.

“Despite what you might think, I’m not completely heartless,” Ikithon says. “We aren’t too long from dawn, so I think we’ll wait until tomorrow evening to proceed. In the meantime, enjoy what time you have left with your friend. I’m sure Bren has missed you terribly.”

Ikithon and his entourage exit, leaving him seemingly alone, though he has no doubt that there’s someone in the vicinity keeping watch. He pushes himself up to his hands and knees and takes a moment to breathe, to collect himself, before looking around. There are lights here as well, almost uncomfortably-bright for him, and he wonders if it’s intentional. He’s in one of two cells the space has been divided into. On his side there’s a futon-style pallet on the floor with a folded rough-looking blanket on top, as well as a drain and a bucket that he unfortunately thinks he knows the intended use of.

On the other side, in the other cell, is Caleb.

He’s sitting in the far corner, knees drawn up and arms resting on top with his head dropped down on them, hair a dirty curtain hiding his face. He’s barefoot, wearing what Essek thinks are pajamas- loose flannel plaid pants and a worn-looking t-shirt- and Essek’s heart aches as he notices a chain slithering out from under one of Caleb's pant legs.

Instead of standing, Essek chooses to crawl to the barrier that separates them, kneeling and resting his hands up on the bars.

“Caleb?”

Caleb flinches, and Essek isn’t sure whether it’s at hearing his name, or just that Essek’s spoken to him at all.

“Caleb please, are you alright? Have they hurt you?”

As he speaks the tension in Caleb’s body winds tighter and tighter, until the already-pale skin of his hands goes even paler over his knuckles.

“Caleb-?”

“ _Schatz_ -” Caleb’s voice issues from behind his hair, his fingers flexing where they’ve migrated to dig into his arms, trembling. “-I need you to move away from the bars. As far as you can.”

Essek stills, then slowly unwraps his fingers from the bars and backs away until he hits the far wall of his own cell. He stops moving, and a second later Caleb’s head comes up, and Essek’s blood chills.

Instead of the brilliant blue he’s gotten so accustomed to, Caleb’s irises are dark red.

“Oh,” Essek breathes.

“You must-” Caleb stops, swallows, licks his lips, and Essek doesn’t know that it’s a conscious action. “-you must stay back, I cannot- cannot guarantee I will be able to control myself, if you are close. I don’t want to hurt you, Essek, but I may not be able to help it.”

His words are careful, incredibly measured, and Essek can’t imagine how much will Caleb is exerting to maintain control of himself. Essek’s seen hungry vampires, and they aren’t known for their self-control.

It doesn’t make sense, though; Caleb’s been gone for a week, yes, but that shouldn’t be long enough to get him this close to starving. Caleb doesn’t need to feed every day; he’s old enough, and his sire was strong enough, that he can go a little while normally, even if not necessarily in comfort.

Eyes narrowing, Essek looks Caleb over as well as he can given the distance. There doesn’t appear to be any blood, or visible wounds, but that doesn’t mean much for a vampire.

“Caleb,” Essek says quietly. “What happened?”

Caleb’s hands come up as his head drops again, his fingers scraping through his hair and tightening to pull.

“I don’t _know_.” With his hair grasped so tightly in his fingers, Caleb’s face is visible and it’s easy to read his confusion and frustration. “They should not have been able to _find_ me. I don’t know how they did, how they got in- but they were waiting, when I went to prepare to rest before dawn. I had finished my shift, was going to read for a short while before feeding, but when I entered my room they were already there. I was outnumbered and surprised. They quickly subdued me and spirited me away. They must have had thralls with them, because they wouldn’t have been able to travel past dawn any more than I can. When I came around again at dusk I was already here.”

“I apologize for asking, Caleb, but- you don’t usually require blood so frequently. You’ve only been gone a week-”

Huffing a rueful laugh, Caleb’s lips quirk up in a pained smile.

“ _Ja_ , that is true. However, as you know, healing myself speeds that timeline up by a fair bit. Turns out fixing broken arms and legs takes a bit out of a person.”

Muttering a curse, Essek realizes his hands are balled into fists when they start to ache, and makes a conscious effort to relax them.

“I'm sorry, Caleb. Sorry that nobody found you sooner.”

“I just don’t understand how _you_ are here.” Caleb releases the hold on his hair and wraps his arms around his knees, hands gripping each other tight. “Nobody should have been able to find me. I don’t now how _they_ did, but nobody at the Soul should have been able to find me, either.” Caleb separates his hands long enough to tug up his pant leg, and his amulet against detection has somehow been locked up in the shackle at his ankle so he can’t easily remove it.

“I did not scry on you.” Unlike earlier, Essek has no trouble meeting Caleb’s eyes and holding his gaze. He trusts Caleb implicitly, even if Caleb doesn’t always trust himself. “I scryed on Ikithon.”

Caleb blinks at him a moment, then sits up straighter.

“That was _you_ he saw. But that was only earlier this evening-”

“I did not learn you were missing until tonight. Please believe that if I’d known sooner I would have been looking for you.”

“But- where is everyone else? If you knew where I was, where I might be- where are they?”

Essek had thought Caleb couldn’t possibly get any paler than he already is, but finds himself proven wrong when the man goes bone white.

“Please, Essek, _bitte_ , please tell me they are not all dead, not for me. I won’t be able to live with myself-”

“No, no, Caleb-” Essek rolls up to his knees, not getting closer but unable to stay seated. “They aren’t dead. They just aren’t here yet. I was the first one here.”

A series of expressions flit across Caleb’s face, and Essek watches as Caleb seems to struggle to understand.

“You mean to tell me you came _alone_?” Caleb uncurls for the first time, the chain at his ankle clinking quietly as he shifts. “ _You_. Came alone. To a suspected vampire den. Where you knew you’d not only be woefully outnumbered, but easily overpowered?”

This is the first time Essek’s really seen Caleb angry, and though the anger stems from fear, it still gives Essek pause.

“Essek, _schatz_ \- what could possibly have possessed you? You _know_ better. You’re smarter than this. Why would you do this?”

“Because it’s you. I-” How does he explain the sick winding of fear and dread through his gut when he’d realized who had Caleb, where he must be, what might be happening? How does he explain his complete inability to wait, to let Caleb suffer alone, even if it was beyond foolish, beyond dangerous? There’s no rational way to explain it.

Love isn’t rational.

Sighing, Essek gestures helplessly.

“I could not wait, Caleb. I could not leave you here, alone. It wasn’t a question. I knew it was stupid, and reckless, and still- I could have made no other choice.”

Caleb looks torn between a desire to yell at him and fondness. It resolves into an odd sort of loving grimace, and Caleb’s eyes close as he nods.

“I want to shake you, and ask how you could do such a thing, knowing everything I’ve done- but I also know I would do much worse for you, so I am hardly one to speak.” He goes to say something else but pauses, blinking slowly. “Oh- I am afraid dawn is approaching.” He struggles to catch Essek’s eyes again, even as his gaze noticeably unfocuses. “I-”

“Rest, Caleb. I will presumably still be here when you wake.”

It’s but a few seconds more until Caleb’s slumped back down in his corner, utterly still. It’s disconcerting, but Essek reminds himself this is normal, that Caleb will wake again when the sun goes down; it’s just a matter of waiting.

Though waiting for what, precisely, he wonders. Whatever brief respite they’ve had is only going to last so long as the daylight hours, and if help doesn’t arrive by sundown, things are going to become very unpleasant.

Ikithon made mention of breaking Caleb’s ‘bad habits’, and Essek has a very strong feeling that the bad habits Ikithon wants to break Caleb of are his humanity, his kind nature and practiced gentleness. Caleb works hard to be gentle, to not let his preternatural inclinations overtake him. Essek’s heard of some of the training he’s undergone in that regard, made possible by the Cobalt Soul, but he has no idea how well that training will hold up in the face of the concerted efforts of someone like Ikithon, someone who’s made a study and practice of cruelty and demanded obedience.

The hours pass slowly.

He’s left mostly undisturbed, a thrall bringing him food at what he assumes is mid-day. All attempts to engage them in conversation prove fruitless; they mechanically pass a wrapped sandwich and bottle of water through the bars before turning and leaving as if they haven’t heard him speak at all. He’s loathe to eat or drink anything he’s given, but he also doesn’t know what he’s going to be up against once night falls, so he brings it all back to the far wall and sits to eat, thinking about his options.

They’ve taken his material components, but they didn’t get everything.

His pocket dimension is so far intact, his books still safely inside, though he doesn’t know how long that will last. One of the frustrating things is that the spells he has prepared that would be most effective not only require the components that were taken, but could prove a serious threat to Caleb. One miscast, one missed shot, Caleb standing in the wrong place at the wrong time- or being _thrown_ into the wrong place at the wrong time- and he’d be just as dusted as any of the rest.

Some of the time is spent eying up the lock on the door, but he has no way to get it open. They took all his jewelry when they searched him, leaving him with nothing to even try using as a lock pick.

It isn’t until later that he realizes it wasn’t just him they were probably concerned with; Caleb’s a transmutation specialist among other things. Any materials would have been dangerous to leave behind.

When Caleb finally begins to stir, Essek’s relieved and tense in turns. He’s happy not to be sitting here essentially alone anymore, but if Caleb’s waking, then it’s only a matter of time before the others come back.

Caleb wakes fully with a groan that gets cut off abruptly once he remembers he has company.

“ _Hallo_ , Essek.” He sounds even worse than before, voice a quiet rasp in his throat. “I hope you are still well?”

“About as much as can be expected. No worse than when you went to your rest.”

Nodding, Caleb sits up from where he’d fallen against the wall at dawn.

“That may not be the case for long though, _ja_? Since we are both still here, help has not arrived.”

“No, it has not.” Essek sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face and up through his hair. “I’m sorry, Caleb, truly. I did not intend to make this worse for you. All I could think was that if you were here, there were very few places you probably wanted less to be at, and I couldn’t abide by the thought of you suffering if I could in any way stop it.” He glances up to find Caleb watching him, eyes just as red as before. “I fear I’ve made a mess of things.”

Lips quirking up faintly, Caleb smiles, though it only barely reaches his eyes.

“You are correct that I would rather be almost anywhere else, and that I _certainly_ never wanted you to come here. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little glad not to be here alone anymore. For what that is worth.”

Whatever Essek’s response is going to be gets cut off by the sound of movement from beyond the nearby hallway, and both he and Caleb turn to see what it is.

Around the corner comes a small group of vampires, Ikithon following behind. Most of them stop to the side of the bars, but some head for the door to Essek’s cell, and he scrambles to his feet, not wanting to meet this new threat sitting down.

Not that he has much of a chance against them, but it’s the principle of the thing.

One of them, a petite woman with dark hair, grabs him by the arm and shoves him face-first into the corner and he grunts as his chin clips the stone. She grabs his wrists and wrenches one up behind his back until it feels near to breaking, and he will not beg, he will not give them the _satisfaction_ , will not make Caleb listen to that, he will _not_ -

There’s a murmur of words from behind him and to the side, and a wave of arcane energy washes over him. He can’t help the sound of dismay as his pocket dimension dispels, his books tumbling haphazardly to the floor at his feet. When the vampire who cast reaches for them, Essek hisses, jerking against the hold on his arms, then yelps in pain when the woman holding him tugs his one wrist that much higher, until he’s forced up onto his toes to relieve it.

“You could not have honestly thought we would not check to be sure you weren’t hiding anything else, Mr. Thelyss?”

The woman spins him around to face outward, her hold on him never wavering, and Ikithon’s moved closer now, standing just outside the bars, watching him as if he were some sort of interesting insect he’d found crawling around his home.

“I live in hope, Mr. Ikithon.” He does his best to channel his mother, tilting his chin up, voice as cool and unconcerned as he can make it. “One would think someone of your venerable age would have a better sense of etiquette than to lock up a guest in such a fashion.”

“Guest, hm?” Ikithon steps through the still-open door to the cell, and out of the corner of Essek’s eye he sees Caleb go deathly still. “A guest will generally announce themselves so that their host may greet them properly. A guest usually comes in the front door rather than sneaking in through an upper story window like a thief in the night.” He comes to stand just in front of Essek, peering down his nose at him. “Is that what you are, then, a thief? Because I can tell you, as someone of my ‘venerable age’, I have a pretty good sense of what to do with thieves when I catch them.”

The whole time he’s been speaking, despite the even tone, Ikithon’s smile has been growing wider, and it’s incredibly difficult not to focus on the glint of light off the needle-sharp points of his canines. All the discretion and sense of self preservation that Essek was so lacking the previous evening comes flooding back in, and with it the realization that he’s very much prey in among a throng of predators.

“Do you?” It comes out less-confident than he’d have liked, but he can give himself the fact that it’s difficult to be haughty and imposing to someone you can’t safely look in the eye.

“Yes, I do.” Ikithon says, voice low and oily, and Essek shudders at the feel of it over his skin, near-palpable. “But of course, it’s rude to eat before your guest has, isn’t it?” He pulls away from where he’d leaned in, stepping back before turning to the other cell and smiling at Caleb. “Bren, dear boy, I’ve been remiss. You must be starving.”

“ ** _Nein_.**”

Essek eyes flick over to the other cell at the vehemence in Caleb’s voice.

“I will not feed from him. I will not feed from an innocent.”

“Innocent?” Ikithon laughs. “I think you’re well aware that of the many things that your dear Essek is, ‘innocent’ isn’t one of them, and likely hasn’t been for decades now.” He gestures, and the woman holding Essek lets go, shoving him forward towards Ikithon who grabs him by the throat, fingers cold and iron-like. “Though you know how I feel about wasting food, Bren. if you don’t feed from him, I’m sure there are others that will. Perhaps I myself want a taste, to see if there’s something in the flavor that draws you to him so strongly. Shall we find out?”

He grabs Essek’s hair with his free hand, wrenching Essek’s head to the side to expose the line of his throat. Essek struggles, prying at Ikithon’s hands, but he doesn’t have the strength to get anywhere.

“Last chance, Bren, before we bleed him dry. What do you really think the lesser evil is? There are no absolutes, you know that.”

“ _Bitte-_ please do not make me do this. _”_

“I’m not _making_ you do anything, Bren; I am merely telling you what your options are. _You_ are the one who must make a choice.”

The brief glimpse of Caleb’s face that Essek gets before his head is pulled further to the side is terrible- Caleb looks agonized, frozen between two impossible choices.

The hand at his throat has tightened to the point where breathing is difficult, and he’s so distracted that he misses the fact that he’s being moved until he’s being thrown bodily into the bars between the cells. He cries out in pain as he’s slammed into them again and again, and he feels it as one of his shoulders dislocates, pulling another strangled shout from him. Over the rushing noise in his ears he hears yelling, and he hazily realizes it’s Caleb, pleading with Ikithon to stop.

Another interminable moment later and Ikithon _does_ stop, though things don’t really improve.

He drops Essek to the ground in a heap beside the bars, and before he realizes what’s happening there’s the cold of metal encircling one of his wrists- thankfully not on the dislocated arm- and ratcheting uncomfortably-tight. His mind is moving slow and syrupy, only catching on that it’s half of a pair of handcuffs as his arm is being pulled up and the other cuff locked around one of the crossbars in the partition.

“I know you aren’t as decisive as you used to be, but never fear. As always, I am willing to help you.”

There’s movement to Essek’s side, but the handcuffs pull him short when he attempts to jerk away. A hand grabs the wrist of his injured arm and he swallows a whine as it’s lifted slightly, losing the fight to stay quiet when a stinging line of pain is drawn quickly across his palm.

“I will leave you to each other’s care for now.” Ikithon exits the cell, his entourage moving with him, and the cell door is closed and locked again. “It will be interesting to see just how strong that training of yours really is, hm?”

Ikithon and the others leave, but that isn’t what Essek’s focusing on in the moment.

He hurts everywhere, new injuries throbbing over the bruises from the night before. His slashed palm is bleeding, but he can’t do anything about it, can’t even try to hold it up to slow the bleeding, not with his shoulder dislocated and his other hand pinned out of reach. Resting his head on the bars a moment, he gathers himself, then looks up and into the neighboring cell.

Caleb’s pressed himself impossibly further into his corner, eyes wide as saucers, the red bleeding out from his irises to take over the whites of his eyes as well. He’s trembling, hands gripping his arms tight, as if the tiniest shred of relaxation would snap the fine thread of control he has on himself.

“Caleb-” Light above, now he sounds as bad as Caleb does. “Caleb, it’s alright. You’re okay. This isn’t as bad as it looks.”

Caleb’s eyes widen incrementally, though this time in disbelief.

“How hard did he crack your head against those bars, Thelyss?” Caleb’s expression shifts from disbelief to anguish in seconds. “I don’t know how long I can control myself-”

He knows he isn’t thinking as clearly as he should, but then he rarely does when it comes to Caleb; if he did, he wouldn’t be here right now.

“Perhaps- perhaps you shouldn’t.”

“ _Was_?”

He rolls his head against the bars, the better to see Caleb. “You are _starving_ , Caleb. It is only a matter of time before you do something, whether you want to or not. It makes sense to do it when you have more control than not. You’re less likely to hurt me that way-”

“I will hurt you no matter _when_ it happens, Essek.” Caleb’s hands flex, gripping his arms tighter. “That is what my kind _does_ , in case you have not noticed.”

Wincing, Essek does his best to sit up out of the slump he’s in. “You are not the same, Caleb-”

“But I _was_. And might be again.”

“You were a product of your environment, Caleb. Would you say the same about your friends, Astrid and Eadwulf? They were in the same situation, for even longer than you were before we could get them out.”

Expression pained, Caleb shakes his head. “ _Nein_. But they are not the ones here right now, Essek. _I_ am. I don’t know that I’ll be able to stop. I don’t want to kill you.”

“Which I appreciate, believe me I do, but look at me, Caleb. Of the two of us, right now you’re the one easiest to restore, the one we can get more or less fighting fit if we must. My problems will take a bit longer and some medical attention to deal with. You feeding from me will serve a dual purpose- curbing your hunger will give you more focus, more control. You can’t cast like this, Caleb, and you might have to. But also what do you think will happen if they come back and you haven’t? At best they might throw me into the cell with you, but I’m guessing whatever he decides to do will be much, _much_ worse.” He pauses, taking a shuddering breath. “If it has to happen, Caleb, I’d rather it be you who does it.”

Caleb’s face crumples, and his mouth opens and closes a few times, as if he’s struggling to come with an argument, any sort of reason not to do what Essek’s asked, but then his shoulders drop in resignation, and he rubs a hand over his face.

“If you are _certain_ , Essek. I need you to be certain, because if you are not, if there is _any_ doubt-”

It’s difficult to focus past the pounding in his head, the throb of his shoulders and other injuries, but Essek nods, forcing his eyes open and up to meet Caleb’s.

“I am certain, Caleb. I trust you.”

After another moment of visible conflict, Caleb nods, the motion jerky, before he rises to his feet, and in the time Essek’s known him, he’s never seen Caleb seem so graceless, lacking the fluidity his movement normally has. The chain at his ankle rattles and scrapes across the floor as he shuffles over, and Essek winces at the dull thud as Caleb drops to his knees right at the bars.

“How-” Caleb licks his lips. “How would you like to do this?”

Until this point, Essek’s thought the fine tremor wracking through Caleb was perhaps fear, or weakness due to deprivation. Up close, though, he realizes that isn’t the case at all- this is Caleb holding onto control by his fingertips, forcing himself to go slow, to not pounce, to not hurt any more than absolutely necessary.

“My unbound arm will be easiest. You will need to reach over here and pull it towards you, though, I don’t think I can lift it myself.”

“Oh, Essek,” Caleb breathes, hands hovering around the bars as if afraid to pass through. He gathers himself, reaching a shaking hand between the bars and at first just rests his fingers on Essek’s hand where it lies limply on the ground. A few seconds later he wraps his fingers around Essek’s hand, lifting it gently as he can.

Biting his lip, Essek fights not to make a sound as his shoulder shifts painfully, knowing that Caleb is only barely agreeing to this as it is; he doesn’t want to give him any reason to back off.

Once he’s pulled Essek’s arm through, Caleb just holds it a moment, a hand each above and below the elbow, and he pauses in dropping his head down.

“Thank you, Essek.”

And with that he lowers his head to Essek’s arm, and Essek lets his own head rest against the bars, eyes sliding shut. He suggested this, and is certain it’s necessary, but that doesn’t mean he has to watch.

There’s no puff of breath over the inside of his elbow, since Caleb doesn’t breathe unless he’s speaking, but there is the light brush of Caleb’s hair that raises goosebumps up his arms. Caleb’s lips press to his skin, cool but soft, and Essek draws a quick breath in as Caleb starts mouthing at the delicate skin over the inside of his elbow, sucking gently to draw the veins closer to the surface. Despite the circumstances, Essek finds he wants to squirm, and is glad when Caleb stops, bracing for what he knows is coming.

“Relax, _schatz_ ,” Caleb says, cool breath ghosting over Essek’s skin. “I will do my best not to hurt you, I promise.”

“I know you will, but do what you need to.”

Caleb’s head moves in a minute nod, and then his head ducks down, fangs finally piercing Essek’s skin.

Despite Caleb’s efforts, it does hurt, though compared to everything else demanding his attention it doesn’t really stand out. As Caleb starts to properly feed, there’s an odd sort of pressure, and the initial sting subsides into more of a dull ache. Essek drifts, eyes closed, a sense of peace falling over him, heavy and warm despite the growing chill in his fingertips. He loses track of things, and only rouses at another sharp pain to his inner elbow as Caleb violently jerks back, letting Essek’s arm fall as dead weight back to the ground. He looks up to see Caleb watching him in a near-panic, eyes thankfully back to their normal brilliant blue, the wash of red driven back along with his hunger.

“‘re you alright?” Essek slurs, taking in how numb and tingly his lips have grown.

“ _Ja,_ I am fine, but you are not.”

Essek tries to focus, but his attention keeps wandering, his eyes sliding shut, leaden, and he knows he should stay awake, that falling asleep would be very bad right now, but it doesn’t seem to matter how he fights it, they just drop again.

“Essek-”

He opens his eyes, unsure how long they’ve been shut, and finds Caleb close again, crouched just on the other side of the bars.

“I am so sorry, I have taken too much- but I think I might have the strength now to get us out.” He looks fretful, and Essek’s brows wrinkle in confusion.

“Then what’s the trouble?”

“It would be a great deal easier if you could move on your own. I can help with that, but only if you consent.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I can give you a small amount of my blood. It won’t turn you, just act like a, eh, stimulant of sorts. However, you will essentially be my thrall for the duration the effect lasts, under my control, and I will _not_ do that unless you agree.”

“But it will help me move on my own? I am not in great shape right now-”

A grimace paints Caleb’s face, and his mouth presses momentarily into a tight line, and Essek realizes there’s a tiny speck of red- his blood- just at the corner of Caleb’s mouth.

“I know, and I am sorry, but yes, it should bolster you enough to make it up and outside. I cannot guarantee how you will feel after- you’ll still be injured and moving when you shouldn’t, so there may well be consequences.”

“Do it.” Essek forces himself up with a barely-suppressed groan, keeping his face neutral as he can. “The handcuff, though-”

Caleb’s expression hardens and he reaches out, almost before Essek realizes what he’s doing, and Caleb snaps the chain between the cuffs like it’s made of wet tissue paper. He holds onto the end still attached to Essek’s wrist, and helps Essek lower his arm down gently.

“Give me a moment, _schatz_.”

It’s the work of a moment for Caleb to break the chain at his ankle, not bothering with the cuff itself. Essek stays leaned up against the bars, watching as Caleb goes to the cell door, eyeing the lock. He frowns, then looks over at the hinges, muttering to himself. He goes back over to where Essek sits and crouches down.

“I think I had best help you first. I can get the doors open, but it will not be subtle, and I think it best to have you ready to go as possible before I do anything else.” Reaching through the bars, Caleb cups Essek’s jaw, avoiding the bruising that aches there. “I know you have already said, but I need to ask once more, for my own sanity- you are _sure_? You understand what is about to happen? Say it back to me, please.”

“You are going to give me some of your blood. It will strengthen me, help me move under my own power, but I will be under yours. I agree, Caleb. It benefits no one if I abstain and we both die here. Do what you must.”

Nodding, Caleb lifts his own wrist to his mouth and bites, blood welling when he pulls it away and pushes it through the bars towards Essek.

“Here, I will help. It shouldn’t take too much; I will help you stop if necessary.”

Essek nods and licks his lips, the scent of iron and copper already near-overwhelming.

He’s always wondered, somewhere in the back of his mind- as he imagines most hunters do- what it would be like, to be one of the beings they hunt, what the process of feeding is like. He’d asked Caleb once whether it was like mortal thirst, like drinking water or similar. Caleb had struggled to explain, but had said it wasn’t anything like mortal thirst, that nobody who hadn’t experienced it could understand.

And now here he is, with Caleb’s bleeding wrist in front of his mouth. He has misgivings, of _course_ he does, but he’s made his decision.

Time to commit.

He doesn’t let himself hesitate any longer, but leans forward and fixes his lips around the wounds on Caleb’s wrist, and tries to suck.

It isn’t easy at first, finding a rhythm, getting over the reality of what he’s doing, what the liquid sliding down his throat is. Once he settles into it, though, it’s disconcertingly easy, the blood shockingly warm in his mouth despite the coolness of Caleb’s skin under his lips. He’d thought it would take time to hit him, but as the first swallow goes down, he feels it, a surge of energy coursing through him that only increases as he continues to drink.

He feels amazing, the aches and pains sloughing away; even his dislocated shoulder barely twinges. Without meaning to he sucks harder, more blood flooding his mouth, and when the arm under his lips tries to move away he follows it, continuing to drink.

“Essek- Essek stop, that is enough.”

A hand lands on his chest and holds him back as the arm under his mouth pulls away again, and he can’t follow.

“Essek, open your eyes.”

His eyes open before the words process, and he sucks in a breath at what he sees.

Details are sharper, color more saturated, the blue of Caleb’s eyes near-glowing from within.

“Light above,” Essek murmurs, taking in everything that now looks so vastly different.

“How do you feel, are you able to move?”

“I feel-” Essek tries to gather his thoughts, but his whole body buzzes, like electricity jumping along his nerves. “This- this is incredible, Caleb. Is this how you feel all the time?”

“I don’t know, _schatz,_ I didn’t experience this before I was turned.” Caleb sits back on his heels, bleeding arm resting on his lap. “Do you feel well enough to move, though?”

“I think so- I think I could perhaps fly if I had to.”

“Well, here is hoping we don’t need to test that, _ja_?” Caleb rolls to his feet, looking down at him. “I need you to stand, Essek, if you are able.”

And again, before the words have completely processed Essek finds himself moving, struggling up to his feet. It doesn’t feel like he’s being controlled so much as his body is receiving messages to move before his conscious mind does. He half-expects it to hurt as he gets his feet under him, but it doesn’t, the pain held at bay behind the thrum of power moving through him.

“Very good, _liebling_. If you could go to the door, be ready to move once I have it open. I will be freeing both of us in quick succession, but we must be ready to flee, up and out, quickly as we can. I will in-part be dependent on you- I didn’t see the way in, but you presumably did. If anyone gets in our way, I will do my best to protect you- but you must keep moving. Do not wait for me, just run. Do you understand?”

He wants to argue, wants to say that no, he will _not_ run, he will not abandon Caleb here again, but he answers differently than he intends.

“Yes, Caleb.”

“ _Gut_. Get ready, then.”

Before he knows it he’s at the door to his cell, waiting, and Caleb moves up to his as well. Caleb pauses, focusing, and utters a word, a loud resounding _knock_ ringing out as the door to Caleb’s cell swings open. Essek blinks and Caleb’s at his cell door, the loud knock sounding again, his own door opening, and then they’re moving.

Essek runs, back the way he’d been brought, down the hall to the intersection, Caleb right at his side, and as they near the end of the hallway Caleb moves out in front, and asks which way.

“Right.”

Caleb nods, and hits the end of the hallway first, going low. Essek doesn’t have time to react before Caleb’s hit from the side by something, sending him tumbling.

It’s another vampire, who’s trying his damnedest to rip Caleb’s throat out with his teeth. Caleb, thankfully, is faster and recently-fed, and quickly puts the attacker down, neck broken and starting to go to dust.

“ _Go_!”

Essek doesn’t stop moving, turning the corner and running, and a second later Caleb’s at his side again, the two of them pressing on.

They meet a few more vampires and a couple of thralls on the way up and out, and Essek doesn’t miss that while Caleb reduces the vampires to dust without a thought, the thralls he knocks out, leaving them unconscious but alive on the ground.

The first floor is just as quiet and abandoned as it was when Essek first arrived, their steps echoing through the structure as they bolt for where Essek figures the front door is. They reach it, but it but when Essek turns the knob the door doesn’t move. He didn’t see this side of the building when he arrived, having come in from a back upper window, but if this is anything like where he entered in, he can easily imagine the boards holding the door shut.

“Caleb, Caleb I can’t- the door won’t open-”

“Step back, _schatz_.” 

Essek moves out of the way, even as internally he’s yelling in frustration, and Caleb takes his place, planting himself then kicking forward, once, twice, three times, and then with a sharp _crack_ the door bursts outwards. There’s still pieces of wood attached, which Caleb doesn’t hesitate to start ripping off and tossing out of the way. Fresh air hits them as more and more boards are removed, and finally there’s a big-enough hole for them to climb through.

“Essek, you first.”

And again, he wants to argue but can’t, already moving towards the opening and climbing through. He gains a few new scratches and splinters, but soon enough is stumbling out into the night air, Caleb following close behind.

“Don’t stop, keep moving.”

He hadn’t really considered stopping, but now his steps have more urgency, heading straight for the gate up ahead of them. Caleb pads along beside him at speed, eyes flicking around as they move, watching for threats.

The gate entrance looms up ahead of them as they approach, and Essek’s stomach drops at the heavy chains wound between the two halves, a visibly-rusted padlock hanging on the inside, facing them. Caleb doesn’t slow, bee lining towards the gate and the lock.

“What do you hope to accomplish, Bren?”

They both freeze, though Caleb only for a brief second as he begins wrenching at the lock, pulling and twisting to get it loose. Essek though, under no extra instruction, turns to look behind them.

Walking sedately across the lawn is Ikithon, a handful of his minions trailing along behind. Ikithon’s eyes flick over to Essek, then Caleb, and his brows rise, an unnervingly-delighted smile playing across his lips.

“Did you finally do it, then? Was it as good as you’ve imagined? Because you _have_ imagined it, you must have. None of our kind ever care for a mortal this much without imagining how their blood would taste. So, how was it? Everything you’ve dreamed of and more?”

Caleb’s efforts to break the lock are only growing more frantic, but Essek can’t take his eyes off Ikithon. The man grows closer, and Essek’s pulse spikes, only made worse by the knowledge that all the vampires nearby can probably hear it.

“ **Mr. Thelyss**.”

There’s something in the voice that draws his attention, some odd reverberation, and he turns to look without thought, but then Caleb’s voice overrides it.

“Essek, shut your eyes!”

He does so immediately, brows wrinkling as his mind struggles to catch up.

“ _Oh_ \- I see, Bren. Very clever, but that will only get you so far. Even if you were to get away, what then? How far would you get before dawn? You don’t have the components needed to teleport. What would you do? Or perhaps you only wanted to save Mr. Thelyss here, and were resigned to meeting the sun, yourself.” 

The sounds of Ikithon and his entourage move closer, and a thrill of fear works up Essek’s spine at not being able to see them as they approach.

“And what would _you_ accomplish, Trent? What do you hope to gain by keeping me here? Surely you must know that I will never willingly follow you again. Why expend all this effort? Are you that galled by one person getting away?”

“Ah, but it wasn’t just _one_ person, was it?” Ikithon’s voice turns to ice. “You stole two of my best soldiers away from me. You have assisted the Cobalt Soul in hunting us down, your own brothers and sisters. That cannot be allowed to stand.”

“ _Nein_ , I suppose not.”

Essek startles at the sudden touch of a hand on his good arm.

“ _Schatz_ , open your eyes.” The words are spoken quietly, and when Essek does as bid there’s Caleb, looking sad and fond all at once. “When I tell you to go, you are going to do your best to get over that wall and run. I will do what I can to buy you time, and I don’t know that it will do anything but delay the inevitable, but it’s all that I can do. If you survive, know I loved you, and wish you only the best.”

He wants to scream, to rail and curse at Caleb, ask him how _dare_ he do this, make him run and leave Caleb to die alone, if he’s lucky. 

But he can’t.

He agreed to this, agreed to be under Caleb’s sway in a bid to escape, and he knew, must have on some level, that this was a possibility. He had just hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.

Caleb leans forward and places a soft kiss on Essek’s forehead before stepping back and turning to face Ikithon, lips pulling up in a snarl.

“Essek, _go_.” With that, Caleb launches forward, but Essek can’t watch his progress because he’s already turned towards the wall, running the last few feet and leaping up as far as he can, his levitation kicking in partway to help him up and over. While it’s good he isn’t using his arms for physical climbing, his floating isn’t precisely fast, and the sound of fighting is already escalating behind him.

He’s just crested the top of the wall when something hits him from behind, knocking him forward and disrupting his concentration. He barely catches himself towards the bottom, so he doesn’t slam full-force into the ground, but the landing isn’t gentle.

Especially considering the person who took him out of the air lands on him a second later.

He’s grabbed by the shoulder and violently tossed over onto his back and he screams, the power of Caleb’s blood not enough to hold back the pain at being grabbed by his injured shoulder. It’s not enough to override Caleb’s last order, though, so he keeps trying to run, batting ineffectually at the vampire on top of him, the same woman who’d held him as his pocket dimension was dispelled. It does about as much as he expects it to, and she grins down at him as she easily swats his hand aside, playing with him, her weight keeping him pinned to the ground.

“Master Ikithon says I can have a little snack before I drag you back. I hate sloppy seconds, but beggars and choosers, right?”

He fights harder, desperately trying to dislodge her, but it’s no use; even at full strength, with both arms, he’d never have stood a chance at fending off a vampire in hand-to-hand combat. Exhaustion is creeping up on him even as he still feels an edge of Caleb’s power, his attempts growing wilder and weaker until she’s able to hold him down without any effort at all. He fights until he can’t lift his good arm either, unable to do anything else in the face of Caleb’s direction. The woman’s smile grows wider.

“There we are.” She ducks her head down towards his neck and he tries to prepare for the twin lances of pain he knows are coming, but then there’s a soft sound, barely a displacement of air, followed by a meaty _thump_ ; the woman shrieks, rearing back. 

He risks a glance up to find a crossbow bolt embedded in one of her shoulders, quickly followed by a second through her throat, and a third through her heart. She barely gets another scream out before she’s dissolving to dust, her weight suddenly gone from on top of him.

Still on the ground he tilts his head up so he’s looking upside-down in the direction the bolts came from. Swarming out of the treeline are Cobalt Soul hunters, Beau and Veth at the front heading straight towards him.

“Essek! Are you alright? Where’s Caleb?”

“Inside, hurry, he’s fighting alone, _go_!”

The other hunters have overtaken them and moved past, some obviously trained in a similar manner to Beau as they scale the side of the wall as if it were a convenient staircase. There’s a quick and hushed discussion between the two women at his side, and Beau nods decisively before turning towards the wall and taking off at a sprint, leaving Veth next to him.

“I’m glad this didn’t kill you, Thelyss, because let me tell you- Beau’s been saving up _such_ a lecture for you- she was threatening to become a cleric just to be able to bring you back and kill you herself.”

“I cannot begin to imagine what sort of cleric Ms. Lionett would make.” Rolling towards his good arm, Essek leverages himself up with a grimace and Veth moves in to help him, first to sitting, then to his knees, and offering balance when he regains his feet. Veth eyes him critically the whole time, face pinched with worry.

“ _Are_ you alright, though? We have healers and medics waiting at the treeline, I can send you there if you need-”

“ _No_. I-” He can’t bring himself to say he’s fine; it’s dangerous to lie about condition when someone might depend on you in a fight to stay alive. “I’m well-enough. Please, I have to go back, I have to see-”

“Yeah, yeah- you’re just as stupid as Beau said you were. Come on, but you _are_ drinking this potion while we move.”

He doesn’t argue as Veth presses a small glass bottle into his hand, opening and draining it in one practiced motion as they move towards the gate. The sounds of fighting and shouting are loud as they draw closer, and he reaches down to lightly touch Veth’s quiver as they move, muttering a quick enchantment.

“What did you just-?”

“Flame arrows. Won’t last long at the speed you shoot, but should help at least a little.”

“Okay, that’s pretty cool.”

As they move, he starts riffling through his mental file of spells, working through what he has prepared, but that also don’t require material components.

It’s a far shorter list than he’d prefer.

They reach the gate, but it hasn’t been opened yet, the monks having either scaled over themselves, or with the aid of grappling hooks. He doesn’t know about Veth, but he has other options.

“May I pick you up, Veth?”

The looks she gives him skirts the edge of withering, but stays mostly on the side of curiosity.

“...sure?”

Between the last dregs of Caleb’s power running through him and the burst of healing from the potion, he’s able to put his good arm around her and float them both up into the air. It’s still unpleasantly slow, but definitely faster than it would have been if he’d been trying to climb.

At the top of the wall he pauses, briefly setting Veth down so they can survey the battle.

Magic is flying every which way, monks darting around just as fast as the vampires. It’s utter chaos, and while he notices there’s far fewer vampires than there were before, the ones still up are the strongest of Ikithon’s band and are proving something of a challenge for their opponents.

Over to one side, Essek spots a flash of auburn lit up in a flare of fire, accompanied by a streak of blue, gray, and brown, both aiming their focus at a third.

“I’ve got eyes on them.” He points, and Veth follows where he’s pointing, mouth pressing into a line.

“Right. Get me to the ground, then go help them if you can. I’ll make my own way over.”

“I have no doubt you will.”

He picks her up again and floats them down, landing gently. The boost he’d gained from Caleb’s blood is almost completely gone now, his whole body throbbing and aching with exhaustion. The potion’s helped just enough that his dislocated arm isn’t bringing him to his knees, but he knows that should he survive this (and Beau’s wrath), he’s going to be in rough shape indeed.

But that’s for later.

He can’t grant himself invisibility right now, wouldn’t be able to even if he had his component pouch, and so he relies on more traditional means, using the chaos of the fight to keep himself away from notice, skirting the edges, and tries to get to his friends as quickly as possible.

When he arrives at the far side of the lawn, close to one of the buildings, Caleb and Beau are facing off against Ikithon himself. All three of them are bloodied, but none of them look too close to faltering, for which he’s partially thankful, at least in Beau and Caleb’s case. He gets there just in time to see Beau land a very satisfying series of hits to Ikithon, the gauntlets she’s wearing sparking with electricity as she does. It’s quickly followed by another blast of flame, tearing across the lawn, scorching as it slams into Ikithon. When the flames dissipate, Trent stands there, face twisted in anger, his clothing burned and flaking away as smoke lifts and curls around him.

“I will see you sent to your final death, your friends in _pieces_ around you, before I’m willing to die again, you welp.” Ikithon’s hands raise, power gathering, but Caleb’s ever-so-slightly faster, and counters whatever Ikithon was about to do before he manages to complete the gesture.

“Oh my _god_ , dude, will you shut up?” Beau darts in again, fists and feet flying, and Essek can barely keep up with her movements.

His first inclination- as it usually is- is to move towards Caleb, but grouping up in a fight like this could be deadly. Instead, he moves so that he’s on the far side, kitty corner to Caleb and opposite Beau, so that no matter where Ikithon looks, he won’t be able to have all three of them directly in his sights.

Essek curses before switching fluidly into an incantation, letting his hands move more or less gracefully, glad that most of the somatics for this are one-handed. When the spell completes seven tiny motes of light erupt into being around him, bright and shining, before floating up to circle his head, and he immediately flings one in Ikithon’s direction. It goes wide, and he grits his teeth in annoyance, already deciding what to do next.

Caleb casts again, but instead of fire, a swarm of arcane missiles shoot from his hands, impacting and knocking Trent back half a step. Barely on the heels of that, a flaming crossbow bolt lands, coming out of seemingly nowhere, and embeds itself in Ikithon’s side, pulling an angry shout from him.

“You think you can _win_? You and your measly band of-”

“ _Seriously_. What part of ‘shut up’ did you not get?”

The fight drags on, seemingly endless, but also fast as the lightening sparking from Beau’s fists.

Essek blinks, trying to clear his vision, but knows it’s a losing battle. He was already injured and nearing exhaustion before this fight started, and has taken a few more glancing hits as they’ve faced off against the master vampire. He doesn’t think Ikithon will last much longer- maybe a hit or two more, depending on how severe- but this is often the most dangerous time, when the vampire’s desperate and angry and _spiteful_. Veth’s flame arrows have run out, which opens him up to other options.

A few more of his stars hit, which Ikithon does _not_ like, bursting with radiant energy as they impact, and it’s all he can do to throw up an arcane shield as Ikithon seems to lose all semblance of control and charges at him.

The speed and direction at which Ikithon moves take all of them by surprise, and Essek’s carried to the ground almost before he realizes what’s happening, his shield blocking the first attack, but not the second. Despite everything that Essek knows Trent’s taken the brunt of, his grip around Essek’s throat is like a vice, strong as ever.

He doesn’t taunt, doesn’t monologue, he just _squeezes_ , and Essek’s eyes go wide as he brings his good arm up to pull, to do anything that might break Ikithon's grip.

Ikithon holds on, not even bothering to try to bite him, just doing his damnedest to strangle the life out of Essek while he makes Caleb watch.

Vision going gray at the edges, Essek still fights, though the sounds of battle around him fall under the growing roar of blood in his ears, beneath the thrumming and overwhelming need to _breathe_ -

Streaks of flame fly into view, slamming into Ikithon from all sides; he screams, hands flexing around Essek’s throat briefly, but the grip doesn’t last long as he’s engulfed in arcane fire. The heat of it is incredible, Essek’s face flashing hot with it, driving away all the chill in the air, but somehow not harming him.

In the end it’s almost anticlimactic.

Ikithon burns to a fine dust that gets blown away on the breeze, leaving Essek on the ground panting for air, unable to do much more than that. Seconds later, Caleb slides to his knees next to him, hands fluttering around as if unsure where it’s safe to touch.

“ _Schatz_ , I told you to _run_ , what are you doing here?”

“Well-” Essek winces at the state of his voice. “I did run. But then I found help, and relative safety, and your orders sort of...lifted.”

“ _Scheiße_ ,” Caleb mutters, finally letting a hand rest lightly on Essek’s good shoulder. “I will need to be more specific, next time.”

“There hopefully won’t _be_ a next time, dumbass.” Beau drops down on Essek’s other side, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. “And _you_ \- don’t you think you’re getting out of a fucking _amazing_ talking to later once you don’t look like such shit. What kind of fucking _ridiculous_ idiot goes off to confront a whole den of vampires on his own-?”

So much for ‘later’.

He sighs, relaxing as much as he can into the grass, knowing he’s likely not moving under his own power anytime soon, but content to wait, knowing his friends are safe for now- that _Caleb_ is safe for now.

Everything else can wait.


End file.
